Please, Please
by VickyVicarious
Summary: Emma and Killian get drunk and play cliche party games like Spin the Bottle. [established Captain Swan]


**Prompt: **Can you write a super, sickeningly fluffy (possibly smutty) fic where Killian and Emma are playing all of those stupid games middle-schoolers used to play at parties, but they're by themselves?

* * *

Against all odds, Emma's the one who starts it.

"Fe, fi, fo, fum," she mutters absently, poking at the empty bottle in front of her, and when it clatters onto its side, spinning slightly so the end points across the table, she finds herself snickering, "oops, guess we've gotta kiss."

Killian perks up across from her. "Yes," he agrees firmly, leaning across the table and it's a good few minutes before he pulls back with a slight sucking sound, panting.

Emma stares at him, mouth open and head spinning just a little. He grins at her stupidly.

"You idiot," she says after a minute, and it's quite possible she's a little drunker than she thought, because she follows that with: "I was joking. We're not in middle school; no one actually plays all those stupid games."

His eyebrow arches high, and she already knows how this is going to end. "_Games?_"

-xxx-

Ten minutes later and Emma doesn't know how, but they've relocated to the floor in front of the couch, and they're playing Truth or Dare. This is only after some time spent arguing over the fact that Spin the Bottle needs more than two players to actually be fun ("I promise Swan, I'll make it more than _fun _enough," he winks and she rolls her eyes).

"I dare you to play Spin the Bottle with me," Killian says on his very first turn.

Emma snarls at him, because of _course_ she should have seen that coming, but rules are rules so she drops an empty bottle to the floor in front of them and sends it spinning with a flick of her fingers.

The mouth of the bottle actually ends up pointing off to his right, more at the door than anything else, but before Emma's even got her mouth open to point that out Killian's lips are on hers again, soft but insistent, moving gently against her own, and she finds herself sighing forward, hand lifting to curve into his hair and pull him closer.

They separate eventually, lingering on three long, sucking kisses, and Emma feels lazy and warm and happy.

"I love this game," Killian sighs against her mouth. She snorts and shoves him away.

"_My_ turn. All right, pirate, truth or dare?" She's grinning wickedly, and draws out the word, 'daaaare' like a taunt.

His eyes narrow. "I know what you're doing, Swan," he warns, but then downs another swig of rum and picks dare anyway.

She makes him try to do a handstand, and laughs and laughs at the string of curses and thumps that follow.

-xxx-

They've gotten through another couple bottles of various alcohols and Emma's vision is a little fuzzy.

"No, no, no," she's saying, "pay attention. This one really works okay, it really does, just say it."

"I'd rather just play Spin the Bottle again."

She ignores him, pressing the tips of her fingers underneath his prone form. "Light as a feather, stiff as a board, light as a feather, stiff as a board, come on, light as a what?"

There's a long pause.

"_Feather_," he eventually spits out grumpily, and Emma grins, choosing that exact moment to flex her magic - Killian yelps loudly in alarm as he shoots up off the floor, floating halfway to the ceiling.

She cracks up, tears coming to her eyes. She's falling down laughing, she's snorting and clutching her stomach and it really is not anything close to being funny enough to cause this but she simply doesn't _care_, she's drunk and happy and stupid.

When she finally regains composure, Killian's lounging casually in midair, hands behind his head, watching her. There's a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Let me down and let's play something else," he says.

-xxx-

They substitute a pear for an apple, because it's become sort of an inside joke not to keep apples inside the house. There's also nothing to hang it from so they use Killian's hook, stabbing the curved tip right through the top part of the fruit.

Emma locks her hands together behind her back, and then Killian lifts his arm high and watches her try to eat the dangling pear off his hook. It's sweet and juicy and kind of horrible mixed with the alcohol already on her tongue, but she doesn't give up, slurping and biting down on the slippery fruit.

"Your realm has an odd idea of what constitutes entertainment," Killian comments, but his voice is a little strained and he's watching her with laser focus.

"You're right, this is a dumb game," Emma agrees finally, swallowing her latest bite of pear with a grimace and reaching up to wipe the messy juice off her cheeks.

A hand catches her wrist in midair and she stops, blinking up at Killian in surprise.

Slowly, he lets go of her wrist, and reaches over to slide what remains of the pear off his hook. It drops to the floor with a quiet_ plop_ but Killian's eyes never leave Emma's as he lifts his fingers up and licks the juice off them, one by one.

Her stomach clenches when he hums quietly at the taste, and she holds her breath as he slowly leans forward.

"Allow me," he whispers, and sets to kissing her clean.

-xxx-

The tension is buzzing in the air between them as they settle back down on the floor. Emma sits cross-legged with a beer in her lap and breathes shallowly, watching Killian taking a long, slow drink from his own bottle.

"What's next?" he asks, and she shivers at the promise in his voice.

"Well, most of the others need more than two people. We could play Twister - you'd _love_ Twister - but you need a copy of the game and I don't have one."

Killian mouths 'Twister' to himself with apparent interest. "Shame," he murmurs.

"Maybe next time. For now -" Emma takes a quick sip of her drink to hide her grin and soothe the fluttering in her gut. "What would you say to a… cousin, of Spin the Bottle?"

"Oh?" Killian asks, eyebrow going up again. He finishes off the last of his bottle and sets it firmly down on the floor between them with a _clink_ that sounds like a challenge.

"It's called 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'," Emma says, fingers clenching around the smooth curve of the beer in her hand. She takes one last drink and sets it aside.

"_Ohh_," Killian repeats, and sets the bottle spinning.

-xxx-

"You know," she pants, definitely more than seven minutes later, "we don't - we don't have st-tay in here. Got a perfectly good bed just down the… down the hall."

"Never took you for a cheater," Killian whispers, biting at her shoulder, hand in her panties with his fingers moving smoothly in and out, in and out, and her nails are digging into his biceps as she tries to stay standing. He kisses her ear and digs his thumb roughly against her clit, and she's quivering, seeing sparks. "Bad form, Swan."

She's startled into a laugh at that, one that's half a sob because he hasn't _stopped_, his fingers and moving slow and steady and she needs _more_. Emma lets her forehead fall limply against his chest, pressing distracted shuddering kisses into his sweaty skin as she fumbles with his belt buckle.

He tenses and groans when she finally wraps her palm around him, mumbling her name and stray curses into her hair, and Emma snickers a little, licking at his nipple. His mumbles stop in favor of a sharp little gasp, and then he's kissing her head, her ear, her neck, his left arm wrapped tight around her back with the cool curve of the hook digging into the small of her back.

It's hot and cramped and his skin is sliding over hers and she can't see a thing but the thin crack of light coming in under the door, she's trembling and so is he, they stand there together in the closet almost fully dressed and cling to each other like teenagers, fingers sliding in _agonizingly_ slow, steady time. When it gets too much, she lifts her head off his chest and Killian kisses her instantly, deep and wet and they rock together, just try to breathe together as the world fireworks around them.

-xxx-

They flop into bed after, lying exhausted and still, staring at the ceiling.

"There's one more game," Emma says after several minutes. "But I think you'll lose it every time."

Killian snorts, but doesn't move otherwise. "Aye? Well then, try me if you're so confident."

Emma lays quietly for another moment before abruptly pushing herself up, turning to place one hand on either side of his head, so that she's leaning directly over him. She meets his eyes.

"The rules are simple," Emma says. "I'm going to ask you to smile. All you have to do is tell me you can't smile for me. Keep a straight face, and you win."

"Is that all?" Killian scoffs.

Emma smiles softly down at him. "Honey," she says quietly. "If you love me, won't you please please smile?"

For a moment, the only sound is the quiet hum of the fan.

Then -

"You _lose_," Emma grins, and Killian huffs faux-grumpily, grabbing her shoulder and rolling them over so he's the one on top.

"As would you," he accuses, cheeks a little red as he leans over her, that familiar wide, stupidly disbelieving happy smile curving his lips. His nose nudges hers as he leans down.

"Probably," Emma admits, because she's got her own dumb giddy grin that she can't fight down, doesn't even _want_ to try and suppress.

"Mmhm," Killian hums contentedly, and leans down to close the distance until they're kissing again, soft and stupid, both still smiling wide.


End file.
